Pandemic Journal - Day 12
How will this go?
How will I do?
What will they learn
when this is through?
The quiet chimes of the iPhone alarm bring me forth from sleep. It is 4:30 a.m. Immediately, I realize I am awakening from a restless night. Dreams filled with Google classroom, distance learning thoughts, and anxiety. My room remains pitch black, as it did when I slipped into bed the night before. The darkness, thick in its presence, seems to symbolize how I feel. Where I am. Where we all are now.
I am really not sure. Of a lot of things. Like the room in which I now lie, many things are present, I know they are there. But I cannot see them. What could those things be? I wonder in desperation.
Someone once told me, life is a bit like driving through a dark tunnel. Headlamps only show us perhaps 200 feet ahead. Now, I feel as though one headlamp has been smashed out, leaving only the other. Which is covered in debris.
As silently as possible, I don warmer clothes, fumble for my glasses, and make my way downstairs. Time for day one.